IT'S NOT YOU, IT'S MY SHOES
[One from the archives today. New blog tomorrow!]
The famous shoe designer, Christian Louboutin believes
that high heeled shoes - specifically his creations I’m guessing - put one in an ‘orgasmic’ situation. Apparently, upon meeting with a French Academic, he
discovered that when one wears a stiletto, the arch of the foot is in the same
position it is in when one orgasms. So
in short, when you’re wearing a stiletto, you’re putting yourself in the realm
of an orgasm...Um, okay cobbler, whatever you say. He goes on to say
that women are willing to suffer the pain of high-heeled shoes because of the
seductive power of the shoe, and hence, they allow our inner character to play,
whereas men just wear shoes to appear elegant or wealthy. Or because their wives refuse to let them leave the house in a beat up pair of trainers for one more day .
Okay, let’s break this high-heeled mystery down shall we, cause the swamp
of b.s. is starting to feel just a tad thick. I will give Mr. Louboutin
that when a woman puts on a high heel shoe, there is a power that comes along
with it. Your leg looks longer, you become taller (for us vertically challenged
individuals, this is very enticing), and suddenly standing at an increased
vantage point feels awful intoxicating – for about five minutes. Then of course
it dawns on you that squeezing your foot into an unnaturally small confined
cone like space hurts like hell and you long for the moment you take these vice
grips off. At no point when I’m tottering around in heels do I think, gosh, my
arch feels so darn high and sexy I just might have an orgasm. The only thing
that perhaps may set my heart a flight is the price of the Louboutin itself; in
fact, spending six hundred dollars on a shoe is a surefire way to give me a
heart attack.
The truth is, as much as I want to be that woman that
trots off to the grocery store in jeans and six-inch heels like Victoria Beckham, it just isn’t me.
I’d surely be hobbled by the time I got there with feet covered in raw bleeding
blisters with no seductive powers in sight. In fact, on the occasions when I do
bust out my high heels for an evening out, I make sure my partner takes a long
good look at me. The first ten minutes, I may even twirl or saunter down the
hallway, as we both remark how amazing the shoes are, and how much more
obnoxious I would be as a tall person (the power would do me in and I would surely use it for evil). Then of
course an hour into the evening, the shoes are stuffed in my purse and my partner
has turned into my pack-mule as he is reduced to carrying me on his back because
my feet hurt so badly.
For those high arched individuals of the world who
claim wearing flat shoes hurts your feet, I say, rock those stilettos for the
rest of us. I am certainly not averse to admiring a stunning pair of stilettos;
but keep it clean for the rest of our sakes and keep your orgasms to yourself.